


Of a feather

by SharpestRose



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:23:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestRose/pseuds/SharpestRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a belated birthday present for Te, who wanted some pre-Crisis Jason and Tim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of a feather

The new digital camera, hanging off its strap on Tim's wrist, makes a noise designed to sound like an old-fashioned shutter whenever a photo is taken. He thinks this is funny, just as he thinks the ringtone on his mother's phone (the jangle of an antique handset) is funny. People scrabbling to make their new, antiseptic world sound like something gone and real.

His jacket's new, too. Too big, so he can grow into it. His father always buys him clothes a few sizes larger than would make sense, as if he can trick Tim's smallness and slightness into filling out.

It almost never snows on the street-level in Gotham, and tonight is no exception, but up here on the roof of the Crown Hotel the clouds are close enough to send icy flakes drifting on the wind. Tim scuffs at the dirty sludge gathering underfoot with the sole of his sneaker, and looks out at the skyline.

The flicker Robin makes across the spaces between buildings isn't as blinding as it used to be. It comforts Tim to know that this is because the uniform is different now; he'd hate to think that those old reds and golds and greens could dampen simply because he's approaching fifteen now.

He knows the story behind the costume change, of course. He still remembers, with painful clarity, those days: feeling sick in his throat, his blood skittering through his veins and making his hands shake, reading the newspapers every morning online. Praying every time he logged on that there had been a break in the Joker's latest kidnapping scheme.

Then, after almost three weeks, the headline staring back at him in bolded sixteen-point type: _Joker victim found alive_.

From the few hospital records he's been able to find, Tim knows that Jason had a skin graft on one leg, numerous stitches, ongoing counselling, and a few group therapy sessions. From the newspapers, he knows that Bruce Wayne made generous donations to the police and the hospitals.

And, from nights like this and a succession of top-of-the-line cameras, Tim knows that Robin now wears black boots, green leggings, and a reversible cape with one side bright and the other dark.

Robin lands a few feet away from him, cape furling impressively as he straightens. Tim feels a smirk twitch at his mouth. Batman might do moves like that to intimidate and impress and frighten, but from Robin it always carries the faint scent of a teenage boy being showy for an appreciative audience.

"I haven't seen you around for a few weeks. At first I thought maybe you'd gotten bored, and then I remembered that duh, it's Christmas, you go to your Dad's in Metropolis, right?"

Tim nods. He's more than a little charmed that they keep tabs on him.

"Get anything fun?"

Tim raises his arm. "New camera, from my Mom. She's gone to Bali."

Jason laughs. "You, getting a camera? There's a surprise. But I don't think you'll find much to snap tonight. It's too cold for supervillainy."

"I needed to talk to you."

Tim guesses that his voice sounds troubled, because Jason retracts the lenses on his mask and gives Tim a concerned look. "What's up?"

"My father... at Christmas, I met his girlfriend. They're getting married. It's Natalia."

Jason's face seems to freeze for a moment, blank incomprehension smoothing his features. Then he blinks a few times. "Oh. I didn't know that she was... I'm glad she's alive."

He doesn't ask how Tim knows that he knows Natalia. Robin, Batman, Batgirl and Nightwing have all learned by now to simply be glad that Tim's sneaky omniscience means them no harm.

"I didn't want you to find out from the society pages."

"So she'll be your mom, huh?"

Tim bites back on the automatic _stepmother_ response. He knows that the comment speaks more about Jason than it does about the current situation.

He knows, too, that Jason's feelings for Natalia were never so simple as a boy looking for a mother-figure. Tim's never had a chance to read Jason's personal journal, but he's got an ear for picking up things unsaid. He wouldn't be a very good detective if he couldn't even tell when someone's got feelings about someone else.

The fact that Natalia legally adopted Jason would probably give any other benign stalker pause, but Tim knows that Bruce Wayne legally adopted Jason, too.

There is a disc of photos in Tim's stash which, of his collection, would be the least dangerous and most embarrassing to have a parent find. It contains several photos of stolen kisses. If Tim ever felt a desire to become a tabloid photographer, these pictures of Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd would be an express ticket to the big money.

Tim thinks the pictures are nice enough -- the pair of them certainly look like they enjoy each other's company more than Tim's parents ever did -- but there's only one which draws his eyes back over and over, making his heart thud a little harder in his chest. A blurry, low-resolution, badly-framed photo of Batman and Robin, their bodies lattice-shadowed by an overhanging fire escape, kissing in an alleyway.

"Is she... do you think your Dad's in danger?" Jason asks, pulling himself out of his brooding. Tim shoves his own thoughts aside, and hopes that any flush on his cheeks will be written off as a result of the cold.

"I don't know. I think -" Tim pauses, unsure how to phrase the next sentence delicately. "That she picked someone with a dark-haired son."

Jason blinks hard. Tim knows what kind of dye he uses to keep his hair Robin-black.

"Do you think _you're_ in danger, then?"

"I don't know. I wanted to let you know. So that you could -"

"- keep an eye on you," Jason finishes for him, nodding. "Of course. I can ask Batman to give you a beeper, or a secure phone, if you want. And you can even keep 'em as souvenirs when this blows over."

Worried as he is, that's enough to make Tim smile broadly. "Thanks."

"Come back with me now, we'll get you set up. I'm catching the train back to the inner city."

Tim rolls his eyes. "I'm _not_ catching the train with you, Robin. I learned that lesson last time."

Jason grins. "Hey, you didn't fall off, did you? You're still in one piece."

"No."

"City kids are supposed to get lungfuls of fresh wind from time to time. Keeps us healthy."

"No." Tim folds his arms across his chest. "I'm pretty sure that offering to protect me from a possibly-evil stepmother means that you're not allowed to take me on top of any fast-moving public transport in the meantime."

"You'd be perfectly safe!" Jason teases. "Okay, okay, you can buy a ticket and ride in the carriage and everything. But I bet I have more fun."

"I have plenty fun."

"Well, at least let me get us down to street level." Jason wraps an arm around Tim's waist. "You sure are skinny."

"Wait, what're -" Tim manages to get out before Jason fires his grapple off and sends them swinging down. " _Robin!_ "

Jason just laughs. Tim clings on, and lets himself fly.


End file.
